The One With The Gerbil In the Kettle
by grannysknitting
Summary: the kettle was heavier than it should be. John finds out why


Disclaimer – Characters and settings as depicted in the BBC series not mine. No money being made. Plot is mine.

Warning – established relationship (John/Sherlock). Random cute animal.

**The one with the Gerbil in the Kettle**

Anyone else would have considered this to be a bad start to the day. After all, how many people in the UK were woken from a sound sleep (in an actual bed with his partner for a change, how novel) by a policeman with what could only be described as an 'axe to grind'. Said policeman had arrived by himself, not with an entire squad pulling a fake drugs bust, so John got up and went into the kitchen to make them all a good cup of tea while Sherlock and Dimmock battled it out in the front room.

The kettle was heavier than it should be which prompted him to shake it carefully to ascertain what was in there. With Sherlock you just never knew. An indignant squeal had him sighing and prising the lid off, inverting the kettle gently over his hand.

A dark grey gerbil fell out, flashing its white undersides as it landed in his palm. It righted itself and gave him an indignant glare before scurrying up to his shoulder. What Mycroft had been thinking, gifting Sherlock with the domestic rodent, was anyone's guess. Initially John had been worried that Sherlock would treat the animal as, well a lab rat really, but Sherlock had been oddly entranced by the furry little pest and had insisted on purchasing a top of the line habitat, complete with tubing and modules for the little animal to scurry through. Naturally the bloody thing had immediately made it his business to escape from the luxury accommodations every chance it got, which had resulted in some initial panic and a veritable avalanche of texts if it happened when John was at work.

"Not the best place for a nap, Houdini," John scolded and set about rinsing the kettle properly before putting it on to boil. He fished out a bit of cereal – one of those wheat thingies that looked like a demented woven square and gave it to the gerbil before pulling down mugs and getting out the tea bags.

In the lounge, Sherlock was committing verbal GBH on Dimmock, but John couldn't bring himself to care. It was Sunday, it was only just gone six and they'd been on the go for the last four days with a nasty kidnapping case. They'd run across Dimmock's investigation by chance and Sherlock had imparted some quick deductions on the way through which had apparently put the wind up the DS, hence the early morning visit. They'd only had six hours of sleep and John had made plans for their wake-up which did not include Scotland Yard.

"John, Houdini is out again!" Sherlock called; a well concealed note of concern in his voice. The consulting detective had been anxious that the two of them get along – consulting Google extensively on how to get his lover and his pet to be friends.

"He's fine, Sherlock, he's having breakfast," John called back as the kettle popped. He made the tea, added milk as required and took Sherlock and Dimmock's cups out to them. Houdini showed no interest in leaving his perch, which made Sherlock frown.

"Likely he doesn't want to interrupt your consultation," John soothed and went back into the kitchen to see whose phone was buzzing. Sherlock was convinced that Houdini was exceptionally intelligent and understood what was being said to him. John chalked the whole situation up to 'Sherlock has a blind spot' – a phenomenon which lead to some of his lover's more endearing, exasperating and eccentric behaviours.

Greg Lestrade had sent him a text, which was surprising as the man had been working just as hard as Sherlock and John the last four days.

_Lunch? GL_

_Breakfast. JW_

John grinned and sipped his tea. He'd been spending more time with Greg socially since he and Sherlock became lovers. They had somehow gotten into the habit of sharing gossip from their domestic fronts – Greg was beginning to realise that Sherlock was a complete person, not just a mad genius. It made working with him… easier.

_Surprised you're up. Bacon butties at Baker St? GL_

_Ditto to you. Lovely. Bring pastries too – will go halves. JW_

_Neighbours had a row. You? GL_

_Dimmock turned up. JW_

_More fool him. Try to clean blood up before I arrive. GL_

He snorted and passed another square to Houdini, then finished his tea, rummaging for clean plates and fetching out a fourth mug for Greg's tea. Greg wasn't all that far from their flat and the bakery that did the pastries that Sherlock liked and the butties that Greg preferred was on the way. Out in the front room, Sherlock finished verbally flaying the DS. John went back in to retrieve the untouched tea mug and nodded goodbye as the other man snapped his notebook shut and left. Houdini transferred himself over to Sherlock's shoulder, which made John's lover happier and allowed John to gather the worst of the case notes and research papers and dump them onto the shared desk.

"Lestrade is coming over?" Sherlock asked; sipping his tea and stroking a finger over Houdini's back lightly. John tried not to be jealous.

"Yes and he's bringing you those pastries you like," John replied. Sherlock's eyes lit up greedily and John rolled his own, heading back into the kitchen to gather the plates and put the kettle on once more. Out in the front room Sherlock muttered comments to Houdini, a sound that was becoming normal in the flat. Sometimes John wondered if the skull was jealous of the attention that the more mobile members of Sherlock's social circle was getting, but he tried not to dwell on that idea too much.

It wasn't how he'd planned to spend his morning with Sherlock but it would do for now.

**End**


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